Pride of Princes - Part Five, Chapter Six
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So we're actually at the penultimate chapter now. I was actually thinking I might finish the whole thing tonight, but this chapter ended up being a little more substantial than I thought.
We last left off learning why it's not actually a good idea to fake consent by drinking evil god water. The boys have gotten out of Valgaard, but Corin's in a bad place and getting worse.
We start this chapter with a description:
He was white-haired, but oddly youthful. There was no age in his face, none at all, though the expression in sky-blue eyes told of things seen in ages past as well as anticipating all the days of the future. He tended Corin with endless patience and gentleness, though he required Carollan's aid because of his ruined hands. Quietly courteous, he turned aside anxious queries from Brennan and Hart and gave all his attention to the youngest of Niall’s sons. And at last. Hart and Brennan subsided into a forced, rigid patience.
Where there's Carollan, there's Taliesin. Indeed, it seems as though Caro has learned from his father's mistakes and has managed a happy ever after with his own weird magic boyfriend. It's funny to think that Carollan is now approximately fifty-seven - seventeen years older than Carillon ever managed. (He's actually nearly the same physical age as Carillon was - given that Tynstar cursed the latter with those twenty extra years. He seems in much better shape though. He must not have inherited the nasty arthritis.)
This meeting perhaps has some greater importance to Hart:
Hart looked at the harper's hands. Such wracked, twisted things, incapable of functioning normally. There were some small things Taliesin could do, but more intricate chores called for straight, flexible fingers and hands with unknotted bones. Once he had made music for Solindish kings and queens and sorcerers; now he saved a Homanan king's Cheysuli son from death.
He looked at the stump of his wrist. How he hated the absence of his hand, the lack of fingers, thumb, palm; knowing the lack sentenced him to a life apart from his people. Slowly he sat back in the chair and scratched absently at his scalp, taking solace in Rael's presence upon the chair back, and yet knowing the lir-link was forever tarnished by his inability to fly. The lack of a hand, translated out of human mass into raptor's, meant the lack of too much wing; short hops, perhaps, would be possible, but to resemble chicken instead of hawk—
Poor Hart. But maybe there's a lesson here. Ihlini magic, as we know, is based in hand drawn runes. Taliesin isn't able to perform it any more than he can perform music. He, like Hart, is cut off from a good portion of his heritage and magic now. But Taliesin's found something for himself anyway.
As has Carollan.
Neither Hart nor Brennan are in great shape:
A hand touched his arm. His eyes snapped open and he looked up at Brennan, who tried to smile encouragement and failed. By Brennan’s face he knew his own; too pale, too gaunt, too dirty. And the eyes, though yellow instead of blue, were full of memories and more than a trace of confusion.
Strahan's left a mark on all of them.
Taliesin does have some reassuring news though: Corin will recover. He'd done the right thing by forcing himself to vomit, and Taliesin's able to help ease the "burning in his blood" until it passes. It's apparently a standard side-effect from drinking the Seker's blood - Taliesin's experienced it himself after all.
Taliesin has other news though. Apparently, Teirnan has been making trouble. He meant what he'd said after all, about renouncing the prophecy, and has gathered up like-minded Cheysuli from all of the clans and reformed the a'saii.
I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I actually am fairly happy to see that there are Cheysuli who actually don't want to take part in the abusive-ass relationship that exists between our main characters and the fucking prophecy.
I've said it before, but Niall's basically got the good part of the prophecy NOW. When it comes to the nations, at least, he's got world peace. Or at least, he will so long as Hart doesn't fuck everything up in Solinde. And Corin might need some military help retaking Atvia. But Strahan's not one for a prolonged war and there isn't a Bellam/Osric/Alaric that he can use to front an army for him.
So it makes sense that there are people who will think "Okay, well, why do we have to go farther than this at all? Why do we need a Firstborn?"
I suppose I can even understand the revulsion toward fucking an Ihlini, though it's not like Teirnan himself is expected to lie back and think of Homana.
It still seems pretty fucking stupid to divide a race that's only one generation out from a plague that nearly wiped them out. And only three generations out from an outright purge. If Donal hadn't lost his lir, he'd be in his sixties right now. That's not that old when you get down to it. The qu'mahlin wasn't THAT long ago.
I suppose I just wish that the a'saii had a better spokesman than Teirnan. It's easy to dismiss all of this when it comes from some petty asshole who really just wants the throne.
As much as I love Taliesin, he does show he has the typical Ihlini understanding of consent:
"Some of you already have begotten children on Ihlini."
"But not Firstborn." Brennan's tone was taut. "And not willingly."
"You lay with Rhiannon willingly enough," Taliesin retorted gently, "though, admittedly, you were unaware of her heritage."
Yeeah, that's what we call rape by deceit, Taliesin. As there is no fucking way Brennan would have consented to sleep with her if he knew her true identity, his consent is non-existent.
And Brennan can't do math anymore than Strahan can, because that child should be Firstborn. But I'll give him his denial here.
Aw, this, I think, is a little sad:
"And so are we to believe the Firstborn will result from trickery?" Brennan shook his head. "I am not Teir, harper, but I find it impossible to believe the day will come when Cheysuli and Ihlini can live in peace."
Brennan actually seemed a little more open to the idea when speaking to Teir in Part Two. But he did just escape some months of torture at Ihlini's hands. He might be more open to the idea after a bath.
Taliesin responds with a prophecy too:
"Or lie down with one another?" Smiling, Taliesin shrugged. "The gods are not fools, Brennan . . . they arrange things deftly and with surpassing subterfuge, when it is required. I give you a prophecy of my own." His eyes were very distant. "There will come a day when a prince of the House of Homana takes to wife an Ihlini woman, born of Asar-Suti—"
"No." In unison.
"—and from that willing union will come the child known as the Firstborn, the boy who will one day rule."
Maybe the gods understand consent more than the Ihlini do. Maybe that's the real reason Melusine doesn't count and Cynric does. It might be worth revisiting this idea in Tapestry of the Lions.
Hart doesn't like the idea but:
Hart shook his head. "I have no part. I am the middle son, unpromised to House or princess." Briefly, he glanced at Brennan. "Once I was Prince of Solinde. Once I was a warrior." He displayed the stump of his wrist. "Now I am a man without a clan."
Now THIS is something that Taliesin (and Carollan!!! Though sadly, yet again, the poor guy is relegated to set dressing. At least this time we have the excuse that he's busy tending to Corin) could actually weigh in on.
"And Solinde a realm without a king." Taliesin's smile was inexpressibly gentle. "Whatever you may think of me because I am Ihlini, I hope you will also realize that I am a man who loves his country. The House of Solinde is in descent. It is time for a new House, built on strong, proud rootstock. Yours would do, I think."
"I am Cheysuli—" But Hart stopped short.
"You are many things," Taliesin told him gently, "and all of them of incalculable value."
Huh, I didn't expect this approach actually and I take back my grumbling about Carollan. I thought this would be more about disability - but it's about nationality.
Brennan explains Hart's issue though:
Brennan saw mute, bitter protest rising in Hart's eyes and moved to make the explanation himself, knowing it was too painful for his brother. "Taliesin—I think you misunderstand. We were taught, in childhood, all Cheysuli traditions. All the customs, rituals, beliefs." He scrubbed wearily at his forehead. "One custom, cruel as it may sound, is that a warrior stripped by physical dismember-ment or permanent handicap of his ability to perform a warrior's duties voluntarily leaves his clan. He is—"
"—kin-wrecked." Hart's clipped interruption stopped Brennan dead. "It is not so heavy a sentence as the death-ritual, perhaps, requiring no forfeiture of life—" his tone was bitterly ironic, "—but what he does forfeit is his clan. His kin, unless they choose to accompany him."
Taliesin notes that this is a really harsh custom. Hart says it's born of necessity, and the law of survival.
Brennan's tone was subdued. "In the days of our ancestors, when the world was very young, the weak were left to die so the strong could continue." He did not look at his twin, whom he judged strong enough despite the loss of a hand; knowing the old custom, in its day, made sense even in its cruel practicality. "A man dying of disease in a time of famine eats food better given to another, and perhaps causes two deaths in place of one."
I've said this before: I hate this and I like this. Because this is a mindset that is cruel and damaging, but it does make sense from what we know of the Cheysuli. With the caveat that I think it's based on an outdated idea of how nomadic or "primitive" groups actually practice. (In real life, from what I understand, there's a lot more evidence that nomadic groups actually did take care of disabled or ill members more often than a lot of pop-culture sci-fi/fantasy would have us believe.)
It helps that the brothers clearly hate this idea in practice.
And that's where an outside point of view can be helpful. And OH. I thought this was about HART...
"Then, my lord, you might argue that the need for such rigid adherence to an outdated custom has declined," the harper suggested. "You might go before Clan Council, as the Cheysuli Prince of Homana, and tell them the need is no longer valid. Now is the time for a new custom, where a man maimed can be valued for things other than physical abilities."
Hart looked at Brennan sharply, abruptly cognizant of what such change could mean to him as well as to others.
Brennan was clearly stunned by the magnitude of the idea, but Hart knew it would not gainsay him. Yet he also knew better than to hope too hard for something that might not occur. Clan Council and the shar tahls, whose job it was to insure the continuance of tradition, were incredibly protective of Cheysuli customs; it was what made the race so difficult to destroy, from inside as well as without.
"The need is no longer valid," Brennan said thoughtfully. "Hart is as good a warrior as any Cheysuli I know, and there is no reason to believe the lack of a hand will gainsay him from his responsibilities." He nodded. "If I were to go before Clan Council—"
It's about BRENNAN.
Hart hedges a bit, what about wartime?
But Brennan points out what I've been saying all along:
"There will be no war again, ever. With Corin in Atvia and Keely wed to Sean of Erinn, who is left to fight us? Solinde?" Brennan spread his hands. "Would you levy war against your rujholli?”
They've got the peace they're looking for. Why NOT use this opportunity to try to make some real, positive changes?
(Post-Victoria Europe shows us that sometimes family ties aren't enough to avoid outbreaks of war, admittedly, but they might hold for a generation or two. Maybe that will be enough?)
We return to the prophecy here though, and they speculate a bit more about the two magical races. Taliesin has more faith than Brennan does that it can be resolved. And his words have a particular resonance in this book:
"I think the gods knew very well how strong that hatred would be," the harper countered. "A parent is not blind to resentments among his children." He looked from one to the other, starting with Brennan and ending with Corin. "There comes a time, however, when the children must outgrow them. And so it will be with Cheysuli and Ihlini." The harper moved toward the door.
Just in case we miss the obvious parallel, Taliesin tells them it's time to use Earth Magic to finish Corin's healing. The boys are weary and worried but determined.
"I have never done this," Hart said nervously.
"Nor have I." Brennan pushed a lock of fallen hair out of his face. "Come with me, rujho. Now—"
He slipped into the void quickly, too quickly; he knew fear and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. What if his ignorance cost Corin his life?
Hart is there too, but Hart is equally as frightened. But Sleeta is there to reassure and gently command. They go down, deep, to a "Power" that is both capitalized and interestingly personified. They urge/beg it to help. It answers.
They emerge, and Corin is awake. And where Brennan had his gesture of reconciliation last chapter: offering love and forgiveness when a delirious Corin confessed his envy and ambition, Corin gets his now:
Conscious, Corin gazed up at them both. "Leijhana tu'sai," he said drowsily. Even as Brennan protested, he worked the ruby signet from his finger and pressed it into his oldest brother's palm. "Yours," he said as firmly as he could, and fell asleep with a hand locked in Kiri’s ruff.
Aw.
The boys actually get some time to rest, and even something resembling a bath! And emotional honesty!
Taliesin did not have the means to offer Brennan and Hart the sort of baths they needed, having no half-cask or carefully crafted oak tub, so they did the best they could. Water was heated in a cauldron over the fire and they scrubbed themselves down with harsh soap and harsher cloth, scraping away layers of filth. Taliesin gave them an herbal soap for their hair, to rid themselves of lice, but they forbore cutting it. It could wait; there were things more important than the length of their hair.
Teirnan. Brennan told his brothers what he could of their cousin's treachery, and his treasonous intent. Then, turn by turn, each confessed how he had been taken by Strahan, betrayed by love, lust, greed, ambition. They raised old resentments, hidden emotions, true feelings, and dealt with them as best they could. By the time morning dawned and it was time to leave, each had come to terms with himself in relation to his brothers; each believed he was a better man for it.
Aw. On one hand, I kind of think, after an entire book of build up, that it'd be worth seeing this discussion and the relevant coming to turns. But on the other, maybe we already saw what we really needed in the comfort given last chapter and the ring in this one. It's over.
Well, maybe not for Hart.
Taliesin gives him a last once over. The arm, sadly isn't fixable.
"Asar-Suti would have," Hart said grimly. "Or so Strahan promised. It was his price."
"But not yours.” Taliesin's blue eyes were kind in his ageless, unseamed face. "Do not curse yourself for being an honorable man. You did what was required.”
"Required." Hart sighed and replaced the snug leather cuff that wanted the stump against injury. "Aye, required—and my own decision."
"And I tell you again to recall that—should Brennan fail to sway the Cheysuli in altering tradition—customs are different in Solinde. We do not throw men away."
I like this too. Solinde is a different culture with different expectations. Hart ran afoul of it before. But maybe, some of those different cultural expectations might be better.
It's time to leave. Almost:
Brennan's face was cleaner than it had been in weeks, but tension had etched permanent lines into the flesh. He frowned. "You are certain Strahan will not punish you for this?"
The harper nodded. "He has no idea where I am, and I use simple magic to keep it so. Strahan is too arrogant to recall the ward-spells I have used; he thinks in terms of conquest, not simple protection." He smiled. "He will not search far. He will be more concerned with placating the Seker, who grows impatient with men who fail him. He will spend his time in Valgaard, not seeking you."
The eyes sharpened. "But I warn you, be wary of him still—he will seek another way. One day, he will try again to thwart you."
I think Taliesin might be a little over-confident here. But that's something for later.
The chapter ends with their departure. Next week, we'll end the book. And I'll have to figure out what to read next!
We last left off learning why it's not actually a good idea to fake consent by drinking evil god water. The boys have gotten out of Valgaard, but Corin's in a bad place and getting worse.
We start this chapter with a description:
He was white-haired, but oddly youthful. There was no age in his face, none at all, though the expression in sky-blue eyes told of things seen in ages past as well as anticipating all the days of the future. He tended Corin with endless patience and gentleness, though he required Carollan's aid because of his ruined hands. Quietly courteous, he turned aside anxious queries from Brennan and Hart and gave all his attention to the youngest of Niall’s sons. And at last. Hart and Brennan subsided into a forced, rigid patience.
Where there's Carollan, there's Taliesin. Indeed, it seems as though Caro has learned from his father's mistakes and has managed a happy ever after with his own weird magic boyfriend. It's funny to think that Carollan is now approximately fifty-seven - seventeen years older than Carillon ever managed. (He's actually nearly the same physical age as Carillon was - given that Tynstar cursed the latter with those twenty extra years. He seems in much better shape though. He must not have inherited the nasty arthritis.)
This meeting perhaps has some greater importance to Hart:
Hart looked at the harper's hands. Such wracked, twisted things, incapable of functioning normally. There were some small things Taliesin could do, but more intricate chores called for straight, flexible fingers and hands with unknotted bones. Once he had made music for Solindish kings and queens and sorcerers; now he saved a Homanan king's Cheysuli son from death.
He looked at the stump of his wrist. How he hated the absence of his hand, the lack of fingers, thumb, palm; knowing the lack sentenced him to a life apart from his people. Slowly he sat back in the chair and scratched absently at his scalp, taking solace in Rael's presence upon the chair back, and yet knowing the lir-link was forever tarnished by his inability to fly. The lack of a hand, translated out of human mass into raptor's, meant the lack of too much wing; short hops, perhaps, would be possible, but to resemble chicken instead of hawk—
Poor Hart. But maybe there's a lesson here. Ihlini magic, as we know, is based in hand drawn runes. Taliesin isn't able to perform it any more than he can perform music. He, like Hart, is cut off from a good portion of his heritage and magic now. But Taliesin's found something for himself anyway.
As has Carollan.
Neither Hart nor Brennan are in great shape:
A hand touched his arm. His eyes snapped open and he looked up at Brennan, who tried to smile encouragement and failed. By Brennan’s face he knew his own; too pale, too gaunt, too dirty. And the eyes, though yellow instead of blue, were full of memories and more than a trace of confusion.
Strahan's left a mark on all of them.
Taliesin does have some reassuring news though: Corin will recover. He'd done the right thing by forcing himself to vomit, and Taliesin's able to help ease the "burning in his blood" until it passes. It's apparently a standard side-effect from drinking the Seker's blood - Taliesin's experienced it himself after all.
Taliesin has other news though. Apparently, Teirnan has been making trouble. He meant what he'd said after all, about renouncing the prophecy, and has gathered up like-minded Cheysuli from all of the clans and reformed the a'saii.
I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I actually am fairly happy to see that there are Cheysuli who actually don't want to take part in the abusive-ass relationship that exists between our main characters and the fucking prophecy.
I've said it before, but Niall's basically got the good part of the prophecy NOW. When it comes to the nations, at least, he's got world peace. Or at least, he will so long as Hart doesn't fuck everything up in Solinde. And Corin might need some military help retaking Atvia. But Strahan's not one for a prolonged war and there isn't a Bellam/Osric/Alaric that he can use to front an army for him.
So it makes sense that there are people who will think "Okay, well, why do we have to go farther than this at all? Why do we need a Firstborn?"
I suppose I can even understand the revulsion toward fucking an Ihlini, though it's not like Teirnan himself is expected to lie back and think of Homana.
It still seems pretty fucking stupid to divide a race that's only one generation out from a plague that nearly wiped them out. And only three generations out from an outright purge. If Donal hadn't lost his lir, he'd be in his sixties right now. That's not that old when you get down to it. The qu'mahlin wasn't THAT long ago.
I suppose I just wish that the a'saii had a better spokesman than Teirnan. It's easy to dismiss all of this when it comes from some petty asshole who really just wants the throne.
As much as I love Taliesin, he does show he has the typical Ihlini understanding of consent:
"Some of you already have begotten children on Ihlini."
"But not Firstborn." Brennan's tone was taut. "And not willingly."
"You lay with Rhiannon willingly enough," Taliesin retorted gently, "though, admittedly, you were unaware of her heritage."
Yeeah, that's what we call rape by deceit, Taliesin. As there is no fucking way Brennan would have consented to sleep with her if he knew her true identity, his consent is non-existent.
And Brennan can't do math anymore than Strahan can, because that child should be Firstborn. But I'll give him his denial here.
Aw, this, I think, is a little sad:
"And so are we to believe the Firstborn will result from trickery?" Brennan shook his head. "I am not Teir, harper, but I find it impossible to believe the day will come when Cheysuli and Ihlini can live in peace."
Brennan actually seemed a little more open to the idea when speaking to Teir in Part Two. But he did just escape some months of torture at Ihlini's hands. He might be more open to the idea after a bath.
Taliesin responds with a prophecy too:
"Or lie down with one another?" Smiling, Taliesin shrugged. "The gods are not fools, Brennan . . . they arrange things deftly and with surpassing subterfuge, when it is required. I give you a prophecy of my own." His eyes were very distant. "There will come a day when a prince of the House of Homana takes to wife an Ihlini woman, born of Asar-Suti—"
"No." In unison.
"—and from that willing union will come the child known as the Firstborn, the boy who will one day rule."
Maybe the gods understand consent more than the Ihlini do. Maybe that's the real reason Melusine doesn't count and Cynric does. It might be worth revisiting this idea in Tapestry of the Lions.
Hart doesn't like the idea but:
Hart shook his head. "I have no part. I am the middle son, unpromised to House or princess." Briefly, he glanced at Brennan. "Once I was Prince of Solinde. Once I was a warrior." He displayed the stump of his wrist. "Now I am a man without a clan."
Now THIS is something that Taliesin (and Carollan!!! Though sadly, yet again, the poor guy is relegated to set dressing. At least this time we have the excuse that he's busy tending to Corin) could actually weigh in on.
"And Solinde a realm without a king." Taliesin's smile was inexpressibly gentle. "Whatever you may think of me because I am Ihlini, I hope you will also realize that I am a man who loves his country. The House of Solinde is in descent. It is time for a new House, built on strong, proud rootstock. Yours would do, I think."
"I am Cheysuli—" But Hart stopped short.
"You are many things," Taliesin told him gently, "and all of them of incalculable value."
Huh, I didn't expect this approach actually and I take back my grumbling about Carollan. I thought this would be more about disability - but it's about nationality.
Brennan explains Hart's issue though:
Brennan saw mute, bitter protest rising in Hart's eyes and moved to make the explanation himself, knowing it was too painful for his brother. "Taliesin—I think you misunderstand. We were taught, in childhood, all Cheysuli traditions. All the customs, rituals, beliefs." He scrubbed wearily at his forehead. "One custom, cruel as it may sound, is that a warrior stripped by physical dismember-ment or permanent handicap of his ability to perform a warrior's duties voluntarily leaves his clan. He is—"
"—kin-wrecked." Hart's clipped interruption stopped Brennan dead. "It is not so heavy a sentence as the death-ritual, perhaps, requiring no forfeiture of life—" his tone was bitterly ironic, "—but what he does forfeit is his clan. His kin, unless they choose to accompany him."
Taliesin notes that this is a really harsh custom. Hart says it's born of necessity, and the law of survival.
Brennan's tone was subdued. "In the days of our ancestors, when the world was very young, the weak were left to die so the strong could continue." He did not look at his twin, whom he judged strong enough despite the loss of a hand; knowing the old custom, in its day, made sense even in its cruel practicality. "A man dying of disease in a time of famine eats food better given to another, and perhaps causes two deaths in place of one."
I've said this before: I hate this and I like this. Because this is a mindset that is cruel and damaging, but it does make sense from what we know of the Cheysuli. With the caveat that I think it's based on an outdated idea of how nomadic or "primitive" groups actually practice. (In real life, from what I understand, there's a lot more evidence that nomadic groups actually did take care of disabled or ill members more often than a lot of pop-culture sci-fi/fantasy would have us believe.)
It helps that the brothers clearly hate this idea in practice.
And that's where an outside point of view can be helpful. And OH. I thought this was about HART...
"Then, my lord, you might argue that the need for such rigid adherence to an outdated custom has declined," the harper suggested. "You might go before Clan Council, as the Cheysuli Prince of Homana, and tell them the need is no longer valid. Now is the time for a new custom, where a man maimed can be valued for things other than physical abilities."
Hart looked at Brennan sharply, abruptly cognizant of what such change could mean to him as well as to others.
Brennan was clearly stunned by the magnitude of the idea, but Hart knew it would not gainsay him. Yet he also knew better than to hope too hard for something that might not occur. Clan Council and the shar tahls, whose job it was to insure the continuance of tradition, were incredibly protective of Cheysuli customs; it was what made the race so difficult to destroy, from inside as well as without.
"The need is no longer valid," Brennan said thoughtfully. "Hart is as good a warrior as any Cheysuli I know, and there is no reason to believe the lack of a hand will gainsay him from his responsibilities." He nodded. "If I were to go before Clan Council—"
It's about BRENNAN.
Hart hedges a bit, what about wartime?
But Brennan points out what I've been saying all along:
"There will be no war again, ever. With Corin in Atvia and Keely wed to Sean of Erinn, who is left to fight us? Solinde?" Brennan spread his hands. "Would you levy war against your rujholli?”
They've got the peace they're looking for. Why NOT use this opportunity to try to make some real, positive changes?
(Post-Victoria Europe shows us that sometimes family ties aren't enough to avoid outbreaks of war, admittedly, but they might hold for a generation or two. Maybe that will be enough?)
We return to the prophecy here though, and they speculate a bit more about the two magical races. Taliesin has more faith than Brennan does that it can be resolved. And his words have a particular resonance in this book:
"I think the gods knew very well how strong that hatred would be," the harper countered. "A parent is not blind to resentments among his children." He looked from one to the other, starting with Brennan and ending with Corin. "There comes a time, however, when the children must outgrow them. And so it will be with Cheysuli and Ihlini." The harper moved toward the door.
Just in case we miss the obvious parallel, Taliesin tells them it's time to use Earth Magic to finish Corin's healing. The boys are weary and worried but determined.
"I have never done this," Hart said nervously.
"Nor have I." Brennan pushed a lock of fallen hair out of his face. "Come with me, rujho. Now—"
He slipped into the void quickly, too quickly; he knew fear and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. What if his ignorance cost Corin his life?
Hart is there too, but Hart is equally as frightened. But Sleeta is there to reassure and gently command. They go down, deep, to a "Power" that is both capitalized and interestingly personified. They urge/beg it to help. It answers.
They emerge, and Corin is awake. And where Brennan had his gesture of reconciliation last chapter: offering love and forgiveness when a delirious Corin confessed his envy and ambition, Corin gets his now:
Conscious, Corin gazed up at them both. "Leijhana tu'sai," he said drowsily. Even as Brennan protested, he worked the ruby signet from his finger and pressed it into his oldest brother's palm. "Yours," he said as firmly as he could, and fell asleep with a hand locked in Kiri’s ruff.
Aw.
The boys actually get some time to rest, and even something resembling a bath! And emotional honesty!
Taliesin did not have the means to offer Brennan and Hart the sort of baths they needed, having no half-cask or carefully crafted oak tub, so they did the best they could. Water was heated in a cauldron over the fire and they scrubbed themselves down with harsh soap and harsher cloth, scraping away layers of filth. Taliesin gave them an herbal soap for their hair, to rid themselves of lice, but they forbore cutting it. It could wait; there were things more important than the length of their hair.
Teirnan. Brennan told his brothers what he could of their cousin's treachery, and his treasonous intent. Then, turn by turn, each confessed how he had been taken by Strahan, betrayed by love, lust, greed, ambition. They raised old resentments, hidden emotions, true feelings, and dealt with them as best they could. By the time morning dawned and it was time to leave, each had come to terms with himself in relation to his brothers; each believed he was a better man for it.
Aw. On one hand, I kind of think, after an entire book of build up, that it'd be worth seeing this discussion and the relevant coming to turns. But on the other, maybe we already saw what we really needed in the comfort given last chapter and the ring in this one. It's over.
Well, maybe not for Hart.
Taliesin gives him a last once over. The arm, sadly isn't fixable.
"Asar-Suti would have," Hart said grimly. "Or so Strahan promised. It was his price."
"But not yours.” Taliesin's blue eyes were kind in his ageless, unseamed face. "Do not curse yourself for being an honorable man. You did what was required.”
"Required." Hart sighed and replaced the snug leather cuff that wanted the stump against injury. "Aye, required—and my own decision."
"And I tell you again to recall that—should Brennan fail to sway the Cheysuli in altering tradition—customs are different in Solinde. We do not throw men away."
I like this too. Solinde is a different culture with different expectations. Hart ran afoul of it before. But maybe, some of those different cultural expectations might be better.
It's time to leave. Almost:
Brennan's face was cleaner than it had been in weeks, but tension had etched permanent lines into the flesh. He frowned. "You are certain Strahan will not punish you for this?"
The harper nodded. "He has no idea where I am, and I use simple magic to keep it so. Strahan is too arrogant to recall the ward-spells I have used; he thinks in terms of conquest, not simple protection." He smiled. "He will not search far. He will be more concerned with placating the Seker, who grows impatient with men who fail him. He will spend his time in Valgaard, not seeking you."
The eyes sharpened. "But I warn you, be wary of him still—he will seek another way. One day, he will try again to thwart you."
I think Taliesin might be a little over-confident here. But that's something for later.
The chapter ends with their departure. Next week, we'll end the book. And I'll have to figure out what to read next!
Close to the end!
Date: 2023-12-06 11:25 am (UTC)Hart looked at the harper's hands. Such wracked, twisted things, incapable of functioning normally. There were some small things Taliesin could do, but more intricate chores called for straight, flexible fingers and hands with unknotted bones. Once he had made music for Solindish kings and queens and sorcerers; now he saved a Homanan king's Cheysuli son from death.
He looked at the stump of his wrist. How he hated the absence of his hand, the lack of fingers, thumb, palm; knowing the lack sentenced him to a life apart from his people. Slowly he sat back in the chair and scratched absently at his scalp, taking solace in Rael's presence upon the chair back, and yet knowing the lir-link was forever tarnished by his inability to fly. The lack of a hand, translated out of human mass into raptor's, meant the lack of too much wing; short hops, perhaps, would be possible, but to resemble chicken instead of hawk—
Poor Hart. But maybe there's a lesson here. Ihlini magic, as we know, is based in hand drawn runes. Taliesin isn't able to perform it any more than he can perform music. He, like Hart, is cut off from a good portion of his heritage and magic now. But Taliesin's found something for himself anyway.
Alix: So, these are the limits of Ihlini magic.
Pan: Personally, I like the two contrasting power systems. It's always good to have more than one power system.
Migs: Losing a limb must be awful.
As much as I love Taliesin, he does show he has the typical Ihlini understanding of consent:
"Some of you already have begotten children on Ihlini."
"But not Firstborn." Brennan's tone was taut. "And not willingly."
"You lay with Rhiannon willingly enough," Taliesin retorted gently, "though, admittedly, you were unaware of her heritage."
Yeeah, that's what we call rape by deceit, Taliesin. As there is no fucking way Brennan would have consented to sleep with her if he knew her true identity, his consent is non-existent.
Alix: At least now only Ihlini are dubious about consent. At my age, even the Cheysuli were much worse!
"And so are we to believe the Firstborn will result from trickery?" Brennan shook his head. "I am not Teir, harper, but I find it impossible to believe the day will come when Cheysuli and Ihlini can live in peace."
Shailiha: I believe every population can live in peace.
Pan: ... maybe, but that will take a long time.
"There will be no war again, ever. With Corin in Atvia and Keely wed to Sean of Erinn, who is left to fight us? Solinde?" Brennan spread his hands. "Would you levy war against your rujholli?”
Shailiha: Starhan's remnants.
Hart shook his head. "I have no part. I am the middle son, unpromised to House or princess." Briefly, he glanced at Brennan. "Once I was Prince of Solinde. Once I was a warrior." He displayed the stump of his wrist. "Now I am a man without a clan."
Now THIS is something that Taliesin (and Carollan!!! Though sadly, yet again, the poor guy is relegated to set dressing. At least this time we have the excuse that he's busy tending to Corin) could actually weigh in on.
"And Solinde a realm without a king." Taliesin's smile was inexpressibly gentle. "Whatever you may think of me because I am Ihlini, I hope you will also realize that I am a man who loves his country. The House of Solinde is in descent. It is time for a new House, built on strong, proud rootstock. Yours would do, I think."
"I am Cheysuli—" But Hart stopped short.
"You are many things," Taliesin told him gently, "and all of them of incalculable value."
Migs: I like how Taliesin doesn't let the hate his people are associated with consume him.
Alix: I like how Hart has grown up from the reckless gambler he was.
Brennan's face was cleaner than it had been in weeks, but tension had etched permanent lines into the flesh. He frowned. "You are certain Strahan will not punish you for this?"
The harper nodded. "He has no idea where I am, and I use simple magic to keep it so. Strahan is too arrogant to recall the ward-spells I have used; he thinks in terms of conquest, not simple protection." He smiled. "He will not search far. He will be more concerned with placating the Seker, who grows impatient with men who fail him. He will spend his time in Valgaard, not seeking you."
The eyes sharpened. "But I warn you, be wary of him still—he will seek another way. One day, he will try again to thwart you."
Pan: Remember how subtle and skilled Strahan was? It's getting to his head.
Re: Close to the end!
Date: 2023-12-06 01:33 pm (UTC)That said, that might be a bit of a monkey's paw wish.